Blighted Past
by Numb Virus
Summary: Kazuma succumbs after being touched by a god's greatest secret, dragging his master along to their shared doom. Now, Yato and co need to take care of Bishamon's cute, stubborn and completely amnesic reincarnation- keeping the child's past and memories to the abysses. (rated T for some language)
1. Chapter 1

**Wanted to write a Noragami fanfic and this kinda randomly popped up. (Am I the only one who ships Yato and Bishamon? T-T Well, it's not romance anyway so…)**

 **Hopefully, this won't suck… too much.**

* * *

 **To avoid confusion:**

" … _italic…" =_ recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

 **SPOILER WARNING FOR THE MANGA.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Noragami belongs to Adachitoka, not me.**

* * *

" _I'm me, there's only one of me! And I'd be damned if anyone dares to try to take my place!"_

Liar, that's all she was. A laying old hag with overly big boobs, a crazy headstrong stalker who did things her way even when it would eventually lead to catastrophic results, a smug nutshell who'd deliberately jump into the underworld, thinking she –strongest god of combat- could take on hell, heroically saving the nobody who had already rescued her not once but twice. What a shame; he bothered to save her _twice_ and on both unlucky occasions he got to walk out beaten up, limbs sore, only gaining a throbbing headache and a few battle scars in the process.

Yet, despite it all, she still managed to screw everything up. The everlasting fights, the long decades-no, centuries he'd spent running through Japan with her and her numerous shinki in hot pursuit, the years he wasted fleeing her vendetta-thirsty glares whilst she dedicated her 'immortal' existence to erasing his 'wicked spirit' off the face of both heaven and earth, so eager to see him six feet underground. He had to humor her mad charade, take the blame –since it outwardly suited him to be the one at fault- look over his shoulder like some kind of fugitive in case she jumped down a random skyscraper, purposely aiming to dig her boot's razor-sharp heels into his skull. He kept his mouth shut, never denying the accusations her voice boomed at him, since as far as he could remember- just to preserve her unbreakable bond with Kazuma. Because Kazuma was all she had left, the only one she could blindly trust. That kind of lifeline was something he didn't feel like cutting to shreds.

Beside, the blood staining his hands was far more permanent than any blight that might've infected her body. He _wasn't_ innocent,s o her evil-stray-shall-repent blabbering didn't bother him that much –though it did get awfully frustrating- After all, he was supposed to be a god, not a saint.

And like any proper deity, he complied with a human soul's wish to save her not-that-precious life. That's the drill: humans, whether dead or alive, sought divine assistance and them -deities- were born to provide it. It was literally his reason to be, the job he was created to fulfill. Darn, he didn't even get paid for wiping out that corrupted Ma-clan. It was a genuine act of generosity from a genuine generous god.

'Huh! As if…'

" _My precious children… they're all good kids…please! Please, please don't kill them!"_

So what if she begged? Her pleas had no significance. She was an existence meant to bear believers desires. As a goddess, she didn't get to make her own wishes.

She should've known better. She was supposed to get it; wasn't it her job as well?- To ease people's craving hearts?

Stupid…

Dumb…

Stubborn self-destructive woman…

Not even worth the time to mourn over.

Kofuku, Daikoku, Tenjin, even Hiyori, every single friend or acquaintance his lowly self had managed to acquire eyed him expecting some sort of reaction; an anger fit, a few tears, a trivial breakdown like when he woke up to see Ebisu's latest reincarnation, anything but the complete indifference he showcased.

They didn't understand. His actions had wronged Ebisu. He had been too damn foolish to grasp the sorcerer's plans and that lead to an admirable person's scapegoating. Whilst, in the current case, the blame was _entirely_ on _her_ , that dimwitted parody of a worrier.

It wasn't his fault she was such a stupid, stupid laying bitch who just had to stuff her nose where it didn't belong. She and Kazuma are-were a couple of brainless idiots. It wasn't his fault! He told them not to mess with his father… he warned them, both of them. It wasn't his fault her shinki one by one perished at his father's hands. It wasn't his fault Kazuma killed them all. It wasn't him who forced her into locking herself with her lead regalia knowing full well he had been touched by a god's greatest secret. It wasn't his fault the man who had once implored him to save her life ended up dragging her along to their final doom. It was all because of her, not him.

'Dumb nympho…'

Grieving an ex-enemy was pointless, illogical. Plus, Yukine crying himself to sleep each night ever since he realized he'd never get the chance to bid his tutor farewell was enough to turn Yato into a wreck. That too, he bitterly thought, was her doing.

Tomorrow, they'll have to meet her reincarnation: Chigo 2.0. He absolutely did **not** want to.

No, he wouldn't go, the decision was made. He'd stick here, on this comfy rooftop, towering the city with a nice big bottle of sake to keep him company. The night was young and he felt good, liberated.

Being alive was just perfect.

Holding the auburn glass carafe up, his left arm stretched toward the moon. He hiccupped, childish even when drunk. "Told you there wouldn't be a third time, you dumbass! ~~"

Gulping the liquor down, his strikingly blue irises radiated softly in the dark. The near shore underneath his feet had changed greatly. The stars had found some competition in the neon lamps illuminating the busy nocturne streets; the locomotives, architecture, culture, gastronomy, sociology, everything down to murder schemes and public mentalities evolved with modern-day's technological breakthrough.

He wanted to change conjointly to this spinning world, become someone better- _an existence that could make Hiyori happy_. Just for that one girl who'd promised to keep him alive within her memory and heart. Because he was selfish, a coward. He couldn't compare to Ebisu and he sure as hell wasn't at any rate similar to that stupid, stupid bitch.

She never changed, repeating the same mistakes over and over again, relentlessly trying to repent war crimes, shelter those she failed to protect during their lifetimes.

'Like that would make a difference?! Stupid woman, she'll forever be so stuuuupid.'

His chest area ached, twisting his insides as if rusted knifes repeatedly stabbed his flesh apart.

'Yukine must be weeping again.' He sighed, that boy sure did cry a whole lot. Thankfully, it was nothing a fresh beer couldn't patch up.

Returning the bottle to his saliva-moistened lips, he whispered a brief toast to Kazuma's soul, thinking back how the blessed regalia used to lend him a helping hand, working against his master's will to pay off his debth toward him.

He'd sure miss him.

* * *

"She's been born barely a couple of days ago yet she's so energetic we couldn't even keep up with her. I swear, I've never dealt with a more obstinate kid."

Ookuninushi-sama exhaled loudly, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was quite disquieting to call another one of his oldest companions a 'kid'. He was accustomed to using the term on his dearest friend due to the latter's many, many reincarnations. Conversely, he hadn't thought he'd ever use it to refer to the greatest god of war.

"That's Bisha for you." Fingers intertwined about a glass on her lap, Kufuku half-heartedly smiled at the man seated in front of her. Kuro, Hiyori, Yukine, Yato and herself were in Daikoku's –the real Daikoku's for that matter- mansion to meet Bishamon's reincarnation. The rest of the seven gods of fortune had already welcomed their alley into existence whilst they were a tad late for, unfortunately, Yato's thickheaded behavior caused the four of them some dely.

"Yeah, she and Ebisu-san became quick friends. She keeps repeating that she'll protect him against any enemy and teach him how to tie his laces –wish her good luck on that one. I'm a bit jealous to tell'ya the truth, childhood seems oddly appealing as of late." He ran a hand trough his hair, staring from behind his black-tinted glasses at the five individuals who shared some of his hidden anxiety.

Clearing his throat, he became very serious all of a sudden.

"Bishamon's reputation has been seriously damaged. Her death's circumstances remain shady and given that those involved can't be interrogated you won't be surprised to know that her majesty's extremely suspicious. Bishamon has no experience when it comes to reincarnation. The person you're about to meet is -in every aspect- the good old vaisravana we all know. In this state she's fragile, completely amnesic, she's forgotten her history and those who were a part of it, but it's still her and she remains a likely target to the heavens' wrath. At that, I was wondering if you could have her stay at your home for a while. Takamagahara's not the safest place for her to be at currently."

"Of course!" the pink-haired schoolgirl jumped with renewed peps. "I'd love to have Bisha-chan with me! We could be roommates and have a girls-night-only to celebrate, right Hiyori-chan?!"

"Huh? I-I suppose that would be…fun?" the brunette sweat-dropped, her statement ended up sounding like a question. When Kofuku celebrated it usually involved a brim of booze. A girls-night-only with her wasn't really kids-friendly. Heck, she –a sixteen years old teenager- still had nightmares from the belated sweet-sixteen birthday party the pinkette and Yato threw her.

"Fine by me." Daikoku didn't appreciate the young goddess who'd stolen his name and gave it to her lover/shinki. Though, he was willing to cooperate with her for Bishamon's sake.

The silence was shortly-lived when the large doors to the main waiting-room creaked open, attracting the small group's attention. An average-looking shinki dressed in traditional Japanese attire came out, bowing courteously to his master's guests before announcing that the two child-kami would need a minute to join them.

He said a minute, but it felt like hours.

Kufuku anxiously gulped down the on the rocks alcoholic beverage she'd been previously offered, biting on her fingernails despite –the fake- Daikuko's constant scolding for her to stop. She was exhilarated, yet her weary anticipation refused to settle. Hiyori shifted her weight from one foot to another, stealing shy glances toward her two companions in hopes to descript their body language and maybe figure out what the couple of them were thinking at the moment.

To her dismay, her attempts were a failure. Yukine's head was tilted downward, his messy amber bangs preventing her brown eyes from meeting his. He must've felt lost, frustrated. Kazuma, as opposite to his master, wasn't about to reappear in any form whatsoever. No matter what, his mentor wasn't going to walk through the door with whatever new version of Bishamonten awaited them. She felt sorry for him. The boy was dead. Nevertheless, death could still snatch away those he cared about most.

At least Yato was safe and sound. She couldn't ever begin to imagine living on if he was to one day disappear... forever.

Cautiously her gaze scanned the luxurious traditionally-decorated room, landing on said blue-eyed jersey-clad holy figure. Eyebrows furrowing at his dethatched expression while he lamely leaned against a wide window's frame, enjoying a cherry-flavored Popsicle, flicking his tongue inside his mouth to get the best of its sweet tang without a care in the world.

His features' coldness was so out-of-place, it worried her. 'Maybe I should talk to him.'

Nodding to herself, the teenager inched toward the laid-back silhouette when echoes of footsteps running through the long corridor stopped her in her tracks, soon halting nearby the closed door. Everyone went calm hearing two distinctive voices whispering outside.

"I don't want you to go with them. I apologize; it's selfish of me…but I_"

"We'll meet again. It's a promise."

"Okay, Chigo-chan."

Slipping off his slightly parted lips, Yato's sugary treat hit the marble flooring with a small bounce, slowly spinning seventy degrees before meeting his boot's toe.

'Chigo-What?!'

"Come on Ebisu-kun, keep your head high and don't_"

Stumbling forward the black-haired dark-eyed little boy thumped, laying flat on the polished floor. His outstretched arms hadn't made his fall any gentler, but they did effectively slap the door open for Ookuninushi-san's guests to glue wide-eyes upon the two children.

"_fall… _"_

Hasting a slightly embarrassed apology, Ebisu smiled, unusually happy to have the kind girl at his right help him undust then straighten to regain what she called "a dignifying stand".

"We definitely need to buy you a pair of strap shoes," the sunglasses-wearing man muttered joining the two toddlers.

"That won't be necessary. I'll teach Ebisu-kun how to tie his shoe laces on his own."

"I'm sure you will, but shouldn't you greet your visitors first?" With a warm smile, the landlord kami pointed behind his shoulder, moving left for the girl he found so cutely endearing to face the wide-eyed assembly.

The small child shone bright with determination. Her pale-colored milky skin was as pure as white lotus petals, the kind of everlasting pure which would successfully overpower any adulteration dominating the environment surrounding its delicate flowers. Her light overflowing tresses were a beautiful platinum-blond meddled with subtle shads of gold and silver highlights, successfully creating an illusion where it seemed as if early morning sunrays cascaded down her frail shoulders, caressing her ankles merely a few inches above her bared feet. Her glimmering purple eyes were rather sharp-shaped, preserving her predecessor's characteristic fieriness. She looked like an opiate gem, a miraculous brand-new slave to greedy mortals' whims.

The sight of her made her once archenemy sick to his stomach. He wanted to yell but couldn't. His fists itched, balling to punch that faint beam off her baby-features but he wouldn't.

'Run,' what was left of his consciousness screamed. 'Run as far as you can. Run like you've always did before."

Running would've been tempting, but to where? His legs wouldn't budge.

" _I'm done running away."_

He could only watch, secretly horrified, as the relatively petite lass bowed to the lot of familiar strangers ahead of her, fingers protectively wrapped around Ebiso's wrist. The voice emitting from her throat was all too recognizable. Her introduction awkwardly uttered yet equally firm; unwavering in its own way.

"As you already know, my name is Bishamonten and I shall try to honor it along with my predecessor's memory."

Yato's eyes squinted close, he didn't want to hear or see to any further extent.

Emotions such as love, hatred and gratitude shaped people's memories. Far shore residents were excluded. Their names fluttered in and out the livings' reminiscences. For a minor stray god like himself, that was lethally accurate.

Throughout several lonesome earthly eras, Vaisravana's blind grudge branded his name into her brain like hot burning iron. She despised his guts, dreamed him dead. She –with a rare few- remembered him, made him feel alive when the tiniest fiber of his being was struggling in order not to fade into plain nothingness.

Except, now…

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Now, she forgot.

He was forgotten, again.

 _Stupid, stupid bitch…_

The Bishamon he knew was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**To start off, I sincerely apologize for the mega delay. School and other kind of boring trouble got in the way... plus, I had to rethink some stuff after the latest manga chapters… Hope you enjoy the very, very belated update! If anyone's still interested, that is. ^^''**

* * *

 **To avoid confusion:**

"… _italic…" =_ recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

 **SPOILER WARNING FOR THE MANGA.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Noragami belongs to Adachitoka, not me.**

* * *

"Bishamonten", that was her name and the first word anyone had ever spoken to her. It sounded rather odd. A name to be feared she assumed, the strongest god of combat's name, _her_ name. It meant so much- to be bestowed a few symbols, characters stringed together to form the first window to who a person is or was supposed to be. She didn't know how she knew. It just felt vital… as if her only chance at something similar to leading a pseudo-life depended entirely on her willingness to hold on to it. It was her predecessor's most precious legacy, a tag upon her very core and a limit she was not to cross unless she wanted to defy her own definition.

Her name was a conduct code. Intuitively, she understood that it drew her frame as a spiritual existence crafted out of countless believers' renewed hopes and dreams, the reason she was to be and the purpose she now ought to fulfill. It held people's expectations, their desires and her duties. But, something about it made her somewhat ashamed, like a naughty child who'd covered a white stainless wall with messy black scribbles in an attempt to draw a map to somewhere better.

The world, according to Ebisu-kun's report based on his personal experience in uncovering the mortal realm's strategic layouts, was a beautiful, wonderful place. Ebisu-kun mentioned that once he'd woken up, the instant he was _born,_ he'd been greeted with a sight that hatched the first beam upon his lips: glittering oceans, peaceful shores, and a clear blue sky in which birds flew like winged fish swimming in a sea of zero gravity. Through closed eyes, images and flashbacks flooded his newly gained consciousness. A connection was established between him and what he described as a persistent humanity- a colossal bunch of hard-working men and women busying themselves underneath summer's heath and despite winter's harsh freeze. No matter the season or the weather, he saw them laughing, crying, hoping for hope when all reasons to seem long lost and forgotten. Thus, Ebisu-kun was convinced that they deserved better, that those surviving in depravity could one day live in prosperity providing that heaven blessed their legitimate efforts. That's where his role found all its significance.

However, little Bishamon, unlike Ebisu-kun, hadn't been granted such a delightful welcome. Her _birth_ felt like getting spit out of a black hole then realizing the fair light at the end was only there to burn what was left of her essence. As soon as her consciousness was fused into a material shape, she had to withstand the pain of a million agonizing cries drumming like a war anthem in her mind. Her newly gained body seemed to shatter within with every faithful soul she felt crashing at the bottom of her heart.

The small combat kami had been thrown in the shadowy part of that beautiful world Ebisu-kun pictured. She hadn't had a chance to smile. She'd fallen to her knees, gasped for air while she didn't actually need any. The cold, the rage, death flourishing on human compost, the stink of decaying bodies, clashing armies, the stinging music of unsheathed swords slicing one another, whizzing bullets, raining missiles and arrhythmic bombing. Ayakashi creeping about the hopeless; tears, blood, and sweat ruining men's camouflage. Hatred, greed and fear were awfully thriving. Invisible among lost troupes, little Bishamon found war to be such a damned practice. She assimilated a billion shot, heard civilians' screams for help, saw famished children that looked nothing like the healthy kid she appeared to be, a landscape of destructive terror and appalled nature laid before her. The ethical border between right and wrong blurred; war had broken every law, including the heavens'.

Shocked and disgusted, she realized that the state of armed conflict between human societies was as everlasting as her immortal name would ever be. For a moment, the first second of her so called life, she hated her repulsive self. As one by one, people fell like fleshy pawns on the battlefield, as their wishes faded into reality's brutality, she remained untouched. Her existence persisted atop the deaths of multitudes and she was left alone between the rotten.

When a soldier stands alone on the frontline, the enemy becomes the only home they've got left to wreck. War was the enemy. She was its ugly personification. Down on her knees, petrified, she was unable to save any one. Their prayers went to waste; she'd failed them. Her first morning was a bloody dawn.

The young goddess, like a statue forgotten in a priest's manor, was about to hit the breaking point when, gradually, silent crowds rose to move on. Beyond the bruises, the scares, people kept on fighting. Whether their motivation was patriotism, necessity, love, vengeance, family or faith, they kept on going. Mothers prayed for their children to come home safe and sound, the countdown to a brand new tomorrow started off, war was reborn into revolution.

She felt the change coming. The weapons were as diverse as the quests. Each warrior marched through their personal hell. No matter their gender, race, origins or religion, war was in them and she was bound to their promise to turn the table around. They fought to stop the fight. On and on, brave idiots didn't quiet. Fervor lit their spirits and through the flames they went, as if aimlessly driven by basic survival instinct. They didn't fear death. Pain became anodyne.

Vaisravana slowly stood. Battle cries melted into lions' roar. Her petite body was lifted up, like old machinery fueled on her followers' courageous sacrifice. She was their struggles' daughter. They were her family. And like a veteran ready to give their last breath for their loved ones' sake, she decided she'd do all she could to make things right. For them she'd leap over the edge, write chapters after the end.

She wasn't human beings' creator, merely their creation. Nevertheless, she did wonder what the entity that made them actually intended by their divergent existence and why she was needed to maintain balance.

That aside, her mission was obvious: fight and protect.

The pure child ran, tearing through the shadows' grip. In the same fashion hydrophobic lotus flowers' leaves self-cleaned even amidst the muddiest habitat, she dove into the pits of wickedness in hopes to rescue at least one lost soul, help one find clarity. Guarding a treasure in her heart, she entered a duel vs. corrupt monsters. Pistols aimed high, the grey sky dropped after her. The scales of time and space collided.

The explosion rang in her ears, she woke up. That was it.

The futon she'd been resting on was placed in the middle of a neat spacious chamber within Ookuninushi-sama's mansion. She saw her reflection in an adjacent mirror; her purple eyes were as ferocious as a lion's. Her mind was not a blank page, she had much information –mostly historical and mythological- that she wanted to develop. Satisfying her curiosity was a must- A good Shogun had to be knowledgeable.

There she met the rest of the seven gods of fortune and quickly befriended the child kami of fishing and commerce. Ookuninushi-sama told her she'd be staying in his estate for a while, afterward she'd move into an alley's that she now recognized as Kofuku-san: the pink-haired kami of misfortune with whom she presently shared a room and who, unfortunately for her, snored pretty loudly.

Kofuku-san -Who, for some unknown reason, usurped Ebisu's identity- although slightly eccentric, had been most kind to her. She pinched her cheeks, brushed her blonde locks, gave her one of the dresses she and her shinki had brought in case she herself should be reincarnated. Emotions often submerged her and she'd hugged her dear Bisha to an extreme where the latter almost chock. Thankfully, Daikoku was there to monitor the school girl's cheery behavior. He too had grown quite fond of their babyish guest.

Hiyori-san, the first near shore resident she'd met, was a very sweet and polite girl. Though, she'd been a bit awkward and left soon after they transported from Takamagahara to Kofuku-san's place. Bishamon guessed her hasted departure was not solely due to her parents being worried, as she had claimed, but also to the two other individuals that'd come to visit: Yukine-san and Yatogami-san. They were both very distant.

Yukine barely acknowledged her then locked himself upstairs before he'd even ate dinner. Whereas his master, Yatogami-san, didn't bother to introduce himself at their meeting. He simply focused on Ebisu-kun and completely ignored her, which made her a bit… well, jealous. He took her friend and refused to even look at her! His attitude hadn't changed after they left the mansion, either. She couldn't help but question if she'd done anything to upset the couple of them. Kofuku-san said she didn't, nonetheless, she'd rather ask them directly. Confrontation seemed to be the better tactic. They'd be living together, after all.

'Everything in due time', she reasoned.

At the moment, she desperately wanted to sleep. Alas, a fast glance to her older roommate was enough to assure she wouldn't. Hence, she made her way out of the pinkette's room, tip-toeing kitchenward to not wake anybody up. Although, she wasn't really sure where said kitchen was.

Every single step forward felt like an adventure. The small estate was an entirely new environment for her to explore. Too bad Ebisu-kun wasn't there; they would've had fun playing with the other snoring Ebisu-san.

"What are you doing, brat?"

The Yatogami stood before her, right next to the kitchen she'd been searching for for the past fifteen minutes. She didn't flinch at his sudden appearance. His face was worn out, as if he'd been unable to sleep too.

'Perhaps Yukine-san snores as well.' If so, she could absolutely relate to his pain.

She held her tummy, tilting her head up to the raven-haired kami. He stared, his eyebrows furrowed and with a mumble he signaled for her to follow him into the kitchen.

Taking a bottle of milk off the fridge, he poured a glass, placing it on the table along with a piece of leftover chocolate cake that Daikoku had made to celebrate Bisha's arrival. In Yato's opinion, however, there was nothing to celebrate.

Agile, the lass jumped up the high chair, her tiny feet dangling over its edge. "Arigato, Yatogami-san."

Her pinkish lips curved into a faint innocent smile, making him, interestingly, feel like one of those street cats undercover-psychopaths tortured to ease their criminal impulses. He spent centuries countering her strongest attacks so how could that adorable smile hurt him more than any murder attempt she'd ever pulled against him? It looked so off-place, especially aimed at him.

From a safe distance, he observed as his once nemesis happily swallowed her midnight snack, making a mess of her white dress and the kitchen table in the process. If kazuma was there, he'd probably be spoon-feeding her some fancy way-too-expensive home-made treat all while daydreaming about which swimming club he should get her signed into. He sighed, figuring that he'd have to clean it up for sure. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to scold her.

Yato would never ever admit it, especial not while sane and sober, but…she did look cute. A little girl of fair complexion with long eyelashes, shining amethyst eyes, silky tresses radiating an unearthly halo that most would only describe as angelic if not downright godly. Chigo2.0 sure was mesmerizing, he thought – a pity.

Angels had wings, strong wings to carry them into heavens' holy light once they successfully overcome evil's luring darkness. Funny enough, Japanese kami didn't come with such gear. Once thrown out of heavens' court there was no way back. Not even the strongest god of combat was above takamagahara's timeless law. The rumors that spread about Bishamon's reincarnation threatened her security. Kazuma being no longer at her side, Kofuku had to take his master in to prevent the heavens from brainwashing her -since rare were does who dared meddle with the mighty deity of poverty, particularly not in the near shore where human populations could get involved.

It would be a euphemism to say Yato was not thrilled about this. A fragile porcelain doll or -as Nora and his father would mock- 'a disobedient child', either case, Bishamon had fallen out of paradise's VIP class. He knew she'd never be the same again… No, actually, she was probably still there, hidden within that small body. She was still the same, her essence hadn't changed. On the other hand, they would never recover their past, their 'history'. Their memories were now only his, not theirs. She'd forgotten all the shit she put him through, how convenient.

Why was he always the one to be forgotten? Why couldn't he forget too?

The night's comforting melody lulled the two ex-enemies, Yato's eyelids briefly fell. Kazuma should've been there. He was the one who got him involved with his nutcase master. He should've been the one to deal with her chibi.

Life was unfair, even to those who aren't technically alive, such as a stray kami with nowhere to go and, from now on, no psycho-bitch to run away from.

"Yatogami-san, did I-"

"My name is Yato." Bitter, he was about to add: "it's not nice to meet you!" then refrained, seeing the little brat's almost uneasy expression. She apologized. He felt a tad guilty. Maybe he should've opted for a kinder tone; she was just a kid in the end.

He sighed, "What?"

'She'd better not ask me if I knew her…The previous her.' His answer would hardly be appropriate for a child.

Eye to eye, she stared at him for a while. His irises' bright blue was cold, sever and surprisingly scary. His eyes made her remember her own, the way animosity reflected in her slit pupils. It didn't soothe her one bit. As if they'd once been linked to a tragedy, yet, still had a great potential for holy perfection.

Why did he look at her as if she was the enemy? Had her predecessor wronged him in anyway whatsoever?

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked.

' _Everything you ever say or do is righteous._ '

"…No."

Though, he would've liked to say goodbye… just one last goodbye. It felt awful to lose an old friend.

' _Sayonara_.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi there! Thanks so much for the kind reviews, follows and favs! It's been ages and I apologies for going into such a long and sudden hiatus… I had a lot going on. But I do intend to continue and, hopefully, soon give a proper ending to this fic.**

 **I did some catching up with the manga and, dear lord! I can't believe I missed so much! All the excitement and waiting patiently (or not so patiently) for the next chapter… T-T Anyhow, I usually like matching my stories to canon as much as possible but this (though, I wish I could explore Japanese mythology through and through) is going to be different…**

 **O thou who is still reading this *pauses* I wish you to enjoy this chapter. *awkwardly walks away***

* * *

" … _italic…" =_ recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

 **Disclaimer:** **Noragami belongs to Adachitoka. I'm not Adachitoka, therefore, Noragami doesn't belong to me.**

* * *

The people had had enough. A stray spirit made carnage of their nights and destroyed their hope in better mornings. Corpses with their ears sharply cut off were piling at their doors and rotting underneath the young summer sun. Children were told not to go outside, merchants closed their business, and just about everyone played dead. They were afraid in their homes. This foe was invisible; however, his misdeeds lead people's collective imagination to picture him as the utmost despicable character with the ugliest possible face. Some claimed they had seen him. The killer, they said, was a damned monster so repugnant even the sun wouldn't dare shine upon him. A demon of depravity running loose straight out of hell, that's what he was.

Monks were solicited. They wept and they begged in every shrine within the area for heaven to dispose of this calamity that had befallen them. Their wish was heard loud and clear for, at last, it was decided that Bishamonten was to put an end to the cause of their misery.

The hunt was to take place an hour after nightfall so as not to overly expose the population to any casualty that might occur during the confrontation. Bishamon had her arsenal ready; alas, her lead shinki and numerous advisors were unable to collect enough intelligence on their target. Not knowing one's enemy was a fatal mistake when conducting battle. Lucky for her, that was not something she needed to particularly be frightened of. At the end of the day, she was immortal. Well… her name was.

With the determination of one who was to administer divine justice, she called out for one of her shinki who, in a flash of light, immediately transformed into an over-sized eagle and flew high towards the forest with her holding on with one hand to its back while gripping an unsheathed blade in the other. All her shinki could feel her discomfort. This time, she was not going to face another Ayakashi of that she was sure. She could feel it in her heart- the pain hiding behind wishes that should've never been uttered.

Fledged by bad intentions, meanwhile, the monster was running short of breath, staggering and glancing behind his shoulder every once in a while. The moon followed his tracks because, you see, the moon had this weird tendency to follow children until they stopped believing it was stalking them and Yaboku -for that was the monster's name- was a child, not like any other but still a child. His small feet, bared and dirtied, were bleeding. The ragged yukata wrapped about his petit body couldn't keep the cold from finding its way into his bones. Death in ayakashi-form ran after him.

"Smells good… smells go-good… smells good… smells good", he couldn't take it anymore. He really didn't smell all that good- he hadn't washed himself in weeks, if not months! Tears were starting to roll, tick and muddy from the filth on his skin, down his cheeks. He didn't want to know how it felt for somebody to die. Though, he always made it a quick, clean slash, he did act as the vessel that helped the doomed meet their end. Would it be karma if he was devoured, slowly and painfully, by that negative mass of hatred growling after his track? No… karma was supposed to apply only on humans… right?

"*Squeak*…*squeak*…na…Smells good!"

Pupils shrinking abruptly, he shrieked in anguish as he was blown forward by the strong hit that had befallen his back. Blighted, lying on the hard ground, he was simply too famished to move a muscle anymore. He consumed whatever energy he had left running around. Nobody had offered him food in over a month and it had been ages since he visited father.

Sakura was not there.

Nora wasn't there.

He was alone and he hated it.

He had no shinki.

Father must've punished Hiiro harshly every time she failed to bring him back.

He should've went back home to father.

If he died now, would father remember him?

Did father still believe in him?

If he were to die right this moment, would he reincarnate? Or would he vanish?

The enormous Ayakashi overshadowed him. A hundred gleaming eyeballs rotated out of their sockets, glued to his pathetic self and the promise of a good snack.

'I'm going to die here', he thought, unable to stop crying. He felt so pathetic.

His eyelids fell.

When he opened his eyes barely a second later, the growling monster was gone in a burst of light. A figure had leapt from the night sky, cutting the Ayakashi from top to bottom, kind of like his father would cut the first seasonal watermelons neatly in half back when their relationship was still going strong. Had his father come for him?

"Father…I' sorry. I'll come… back home. I'll do as you say… Nora and I will play… and we'll bring you a lot of souvenirs, ears, fingers, whatever you want… That'll make you happy…right? You'll be happy of me…" His voice was raspy. About to faint, he had to pause to inhale then exhale. Breathing made it harder to talk. Trying to lift himself off the dirt to not look like a good-for-nothing before the one man who intimidated him beyond reason, he only ended up crashing harder down.

His savior's silhouette moved forward. It was too dark and he could barely see straight, though, beside a bloody blade's glimmer, he could make out a thin waist with a feminine curve to it and a few platinum locks, swaying as the person edged further towards him. Now, blight might have infected his brain, but he was still positive his father wasn't blonde…and he wasn't a woman, either. They had bathed together before. If his father was a woman, he would've noticed… or so he hoped.

'Dad…?'

"Did you hear that, my lady? The ears! This is the foe we've been searching for!"

Her shinki were exited. They'd been looking from above throughout the woods and finally, by pure chance, found their target. Bishamon, on the other hand, blinked her shock away. A kid killing people for praise was absolutely not what she had expected. She could see he was hurting; heaving, his small body was a deep purple with blight. Instinctively, she raised her katana above her head and over his neck. The moonlight gave his pale boyish face a mystifying air and the way he looked at her so intently made her feel in the wrong. A shiver ran down her spine. The hair on her neck spiked up like a gutter cat fighting an equal opponent, which was odd since a beaten and unarmed little boy wasn't really someone to call an 'equal opponent'.

'Is this it? This is the terrifying monster I'm to eradicate?

She could've sworn there was no soul behind his squinted blue eyes, yet, he seemed terrified. He was scared to die even if he -like her- wasn't technically alive.

'I see…'

Her gaze upon him was somber, lifeless.

It didn't matter if he was physically a child; he was still made for murder.

Bad feelings of hatred and despair pushed people to ask for an existence like his. In that way, he was no different from that abominable Ayakashi she'd just slain.

'War…war isn't all that good either.'

This was no time for mercy. She couldn't bear to admit he was no different from her. For her to compare herself to a being like him was not befitting of her title.

"Lady Bishamon, please finish this lowlife quickly." Her head shinki, an old, strict and often a bit too tyrannical woman who had been at her service for many years now was on a hurry. Her voice reeked of disgust; something about it made Bishamon mad; as if, despite her good sense, she took it rather personally.

'This is my duty… if I don't kill him more people will suffer. I must.'

Still, he was so small…

She had never ever struck an enemy down.

Was this supposed to be easy?

It wasn't.

Her teeth gritted. Her sword fell.

Kneeling next to the injured foe, she scooped him up in her arms. The touch of him burned her flesh. She didn't wince.

Her shinki were all alarmed. Not bothering with them, she whistled a whistle that amazed young Yaboku. He, sadly, had never managed to learn how to whistle. Then, swiftly rode, once again, on the eagle that had landed at her signal.

Heaving a sigh, she decided on giving the child a bath in blessed waters then think over her course of action. Maybe, just this once, she could let her prey escape.

The boy, motionless against her chest, lifted a translucent stare up toward his savior. If he was human, it would've seemed he was praying.

His vision was foggy. Still, he could tell the one holding him was no human being, too. It wasn't his father after all.

Did this mean he was allowed to live for now?

A chuckle erupted into his mind. It was the echo of a mocking tone he knew very well. "I bet she was surprised to see those same cold eyes shine as you slaughtered her precious family centuries after your little encounter."

"Dad…? Why are you here?" Here was plain nothingness.

Father laughed. With a smirk, he said: "well, that's my son."

Sweating buckets, Yato awoke with a start. His white t-shirt clung to his skin and there were yellow stains on it under his armpits that made him feel just as disgusting as he looked. A hand holding his neck to crush the lump in his throat, he wasn't sure if that was a dream, a memory or both.

He hadn't met Bishamon before Kazuma asked for his help… or else he would've remembered. No matter when something happened, be it a day or a thousand years ago, he always and without fail remembered.

" Oi, so you're finally awake, your majesty Baka-sama." Strangely cheerful ever since he had another kid under his roof, Daikoku entered Yato's and Yukine's room without any further enouncements. On ordinary occasions, Yato would be quick to complain on and on about how the lack of intimacy was a serious trespass on his personal space. To which his blunt interlocutor would, yet again, suggest he found himself his own place and stopped freeloading in their attic.

"Yeah…" The quietness in his reply, along with his terrible looks and messy morning hair, was enough to make Daikoku a tad suspicious. Yato was usually the epitome of goofiness, acting like a carefree dork from early morning to late at night. Though, rarely, his behavior would show traces decades and centuries of struggle for existence had left on his psych.

Brushing it off, the seemingly older man went about, searching the small room for what had originally caused him to go up there. "Anyway, where are your doujinshi?"

The raven-haired head popped up, confused. "My-what?"

"Your doujinshi," he repeated. "The ones you drew about bishamon-sama."

Yato stared at him with one of those expressions nobody else but he could pull off. "…You're only getting interested in those after she became all child-like. I knew you were a pervert but this …"

The punch he got in response almost sent him flying back to dreamland.

"It's not like that you bastard! Don't go around casually talking about such serious accusations! And you've got some nerves, calling me a pervert when you shamelessly drew and profited from selling x-rated magazines!"

"Everybody has to make a living! Those things sell good." cupping his sore cheek, he added matter-of-factly, "and they made Kazuma extremely happy, too. You could say I was doing a solid to a bro."

"Don't bring Kazuma into this, you creepy pervert. He only bought those to help you out whenever you were short on cash –which is basically always- and keep from spreading your works to preserve his mistress's reputation. Though, if it were me, I would've beaten the shit out of you, instead."

"Yeah, right…" rolling his eyes and scratching his heavy head, the infamous not-so-famous artist rose from his bedding. "What do you need the doujinshi for, then?"

"To burn them, obviously."

Horrified, Yato's face fell. He screamed: "Obviously?! What the heck is so obvious about that?! I'll never handover my precious art, never ever, ever!"

Looking around, the severe shinki didn't appear to give a damn about his exaggerated reaction. He was unfortunately aware of his Diva-like tendencies and how childish of a bum he could be.

"Too late, I already found and got rid of most of them while you were asleep. I was just asking in case there were some stashed around somewhere."

"You're joking, right?" There was a distinct smell of burning in the air that he had been too shaken at his awakening to notice, but his mind couldn't accept it.

"No, not at all."

"B-b-b-b-but, but why?"

"You said it yourself, Bishamon-sama has reincarnated. I won't have her innocent little reincarnation stumbling upon your crap and thinking her predecessor was a disgrace. She'd most likely commit hara-kiri. Since she, Yukine and Kofuku are out grocery shopping, I thought it was the perfect time to deal with this. "

"But… my life's work… w-why?"

Grieving, Yato was heartbroken.

* * *

There's a unique, and perhaps misleading, sense of purity that stung whoever took a moment to observe, ever so silently, cherry blossoms flutter high as if beckoning the wind to lead their path toward a gracious closure. Bishamon had spent scarcely a week in the near shore and their baby pink sight, that felt otherworldly melancholic, was by far her favorite of all she had the chance to see so far. Though, this was her first time going out, so she hadn't exactly seen much of the world yet.

Tagging along with an upbeat Kofuku and a quiet Yukine through shops and market stalls, she was overjoyed. Or at least, she had been. Her excitement had abandoned its place to a solemn feeling that tightened its hold on her chest for a reason she failed to pin point the moment Yukine-kun decided to take her somewhere he promised had been very special to her predecessor. They were simply walking around, carrying a bunch of paper bags that had logos of different brands printed on them, when she spotted a cute pair of sakura-shaped flower earrings that instantly caught her eyes. Naturally, she didn't ask the kami of poverty to buy it for her. She had her own allowance. Nonetheless, they were both dreaded just seeing her admire the jewelry. Heck, Kofuku nearly shed tears. That was when Yukine suddenly dropped the groceries in his arms, took her by the wrist and stormed off in the distance, leaving a helpless Kofuku screaming their names behind. If people were able to see them, she was about certain the two of them, dashing through the crowds, would've caused quite the curious commotion.

On a hurry or not, it was easy for her to keep up the pace until they'd reached the mysterious destination the peach-eyed teenager was so eager to show her: A sakura tree. Its branches quietly waved with the wind, as if greeting its visitors.

Confused, she gawked at it. It was truly the most breathtaking scenery she'd ever looked upon. So much, it shook the basis of who she was meant to be.

Yukine, left palm flat on the trunk of the sakura tree he'd been taking care of ever since his first friend passed away while his right hand still held into her, wondered who'd actually call out for a ghost's ghost. He had no idea why he felt the need to bring Bishamon there… he just needed to. It wasn't fair for her not to remember the people he was grieving. Suzuha, Kazuma, they'd loved her so much…

"Bishamon-sama," He turned toward her, ready to explain up to the most insignificant detail of everything they'd been through. Alas, a hateful chuckle interrupted him before he could say a word.

"It's nice to meet you here, Yukine-kun, Bishamon-san."

Fujisaki Kouto gleefully stood behind them; Nora curiously staring at the pair next to her dear daddy.

"Where's Yato?"


	4. Chapter 4

" … _italic…" =_ recalled speech.

"…plain…" = normal speech.

'…plain…' = thoughts.

 **Disclaimer:** **Noragami belongs to Adachitoka, not me.**

* * *

 _Nothing can grow beneath the winter snow._

* * *

"Where is Yato?" It was the stray that had, innocently enough, asked. The guy accompanying her didn't seem too happy about it for some reason.

"You mean Yaboku, don't you Mizuchi?" Ruffling her hair, the hitaikakushi she wore to the side of her forehead creased as he efficiently corrected her unintentional slip. Despite the calamity God releasing her, she still loved and missed her old friend dearly. Thus, for once in her afterlife, she carelessly spoke against Father's wishes, calling him 'Yato' instead of 'Yaboku' in their daddy's presence.

"I'm sure he's too busy to go flower viewing."

The obedient girl obediently obliged.

Silently analyzing the situation presented before her, Bishamon felt the tight grip on her wrist gradually becoming painful. Alarmed, Yukine had extended his index and middle fingers into a familiar halberd shape, drawing a borderline so abruptly fast, it cut through thin air and slashed a few grass blades between them and the two figures that stood a dozen feet away from the sakura tree they had their backs to. Neither appeared fazed by the clear hatred he'd poured into that one swift motion. However, his dread, obvious by slightly quaking legs and a sweaty brow that wasn't completely due to running the city's bustling streets, amused them. Everything about his attitude screamed for them to go to hell. She could tell these people were his enemies and, consequently, also hers.

A fresh breeze blew fallen blossoms heavenward. Backpack slung over his shoulder, the laidback high-school student greeted them with an affable smile. Average was the word that described him the best, in Bishamon's opinion. Be that as it may, he was a handsome young man of good built. The somewhat haughty fashion with which he carried himself was irking, and his intelligent light brown eyes were calculating, suiting an old soul. Yatogami's absence seemed to disappoint him a notch, too. But he waved it off nonchalantly, focusing his attention on the blessed regalia that glared at him as if he could, by putting enough will into it, mentally erase him from existence.

"Why so tense Yukine-kun?" There was a hint of underlying venom lacing his words. The previously named boy couldn't help but jerk at the intimacy in his honeyed tone. Father terrified him for reasons he wasn't yet able to fully grasp. A borderline, against such a sweet-tongued demon, suddenly felt petty.

" _Come to daddy, come! I'm coming to get you, brat."_

" _Run, run, run, I'll hide you in the dark. "_

" _Why won't you be a good little boy?"_

" _They are crying, pleading, dying."_

" _No, you can't protect yourself."_

" _You can't save anyone."_

" _You little cowardly shit!"_

" _Such a pity…"_

" _See, now you're dead._ "

This lullaby is one Yukine could, fortunately, not hear anymore. If he did, he would've had a better understanding of the fear creeping like frost, through his veins, beneath his skin. 'Father' embodied a bitter past.

Mixed feelings mingled in his head, nauseating, he was insecure and guilty. Bishamon-sama, because of him, was confronting the people that had ruined her previous life in the very spot where their masked ayakashi had tore Suzuha's limbs apart. Ghost heart racing faster in his hollow chest, he had no idea if and why they followed them. Yato was probably still sleeping the day off, while he, useless, had to deal with his lifeline's inopportune appearance. He'd barely snapped out of his grief over Kazuma's passing, it really wasn't the time for this!

A colorful curse knocked at his firmly pressed lips, putting further pressure on his gritted jaw, pending to exit his dry mouth. If it were not for the child beside him, he would've gladly allowed it out. Surely, giving this bastard a piece of his mind would make him feel better or, at least, not as powerless as he genuinely was.

He stayed quiet.

The tree, boldly talking in a secret language he had no knowledge of, loomed above him, as if pointing out just how small and ashamed he was.

'Suzuha… Kazuma… I'm sorry, guys', he contritely thought, trying not to pay attention to the smirk playing at the upper corner of Father's lips.

'What to do? I can't even bring myself to say something, dammit!'

Nora, lethargic in her traditional attire, sleeves mostly covering the scarlet markings on her pale skin, shifted closer to him. "Toto-sama, please, Yukine is just afraid."

Stepping toward the invisible wall his borderline spell built between them, her ebony irises locked into his empty hawthorn's fruit ones, staring at his distraught self as if through a shattered looking glass. Her movements were feathery yet there was something heavy about her person, as if she could steal someone's soul and render them as cold as the dead by a mere touch. Whimsical, she looked like a doll, a body left hanging by her lonesome in a suicide forest*, prone to decay. Unlike sakura blossoms, she'd never be able to flutter nearer to the heavens.

Having upset her master, it was a wonder she'd dare intervene again.

"Don't act like you know me! Yato, Hiyori and I, you know shit about us!" Yelling did clear the lump in his throat. Nevertheless, Yukine regretted it almost instantly upon hearing the antagonistic brunette snicker at him. Nora didn't flinch.

"Will you just chill~ Jeez, I don't get why Yaboku left our family for people like you. " Raising his arm, Fujisaki openly challenged the gold-haired guidepost to make a move. "Come Chiki."

In an instant, Nora was gone, replaced by a metal Shakujo in Father's hold.

"We simply wanted to see the new Bishamonten. Last time, her predecessor was in no mood for chit-chat. You don't need to be so pissed about it."

Yukine, by now barely maintaining the borderline keeping them relatively safe, turned his attention to his small companion. His clutch on her wrist, he realized, was too firm. Though, overtly glaring at their enemy, she seemed to discard it entirely. She had been so still. For a second, he almost forgot she was there amidst his self-indulgence. Her facial expression, the darkest her infantile self had ever pulled, sent chills up his spine. Gulping, hesitantly, his grip loosened.

"Who are you and how did you know my predecessor?"

Fujisaki furrowed his brow at her. "Tsk. Someone should really reeducate this kid. That's no way to talk to your elders, little girl."

He didn't need to reply. It was an intuition, a hunch maybe, but she was convinced he was none other than The Sorcerer.

The sorcerer that had the former Ebisu executed.

The same sorcerer that was there for her predecessor's death, and who knew why she presently had no shinki taking care of her like she normally should.

The mysterious man she accidently heard the rest of the seven gods of fortune arguing about when they first met her.

The one who, busy taunting the poor boy next to her, was pretending she didn't even exist.

Existence being her greatest treasure, she didn't appreciate his blatant disrespect.

"And don't flatter yourself, kid. I know Yaboku more than you ever will."

Father smiled. Unexpectedly, his staff crashed on Yukine's weakened borderline, rendering it into a rain of shiny shreds. He took an aim at the blond.

Adamantine amethyst and a tiny hand clenched on his weapon blocked his attack.

Bishamon startled herself. Hatred, honest and begrudging, felt refreshing as it pulsed through her veins. With it in her emotional repertoire, she was an inch closer to understanding the world. Her senses were strikingly alert, ready to fight, win and thrive. Her whole being begged to unleash a ferocity that far suppressed her tiny frame. The man before her, she loathed him with a passion she couldn't begin to explain. All she knew was that he and his 'daughter' must never get a hold on Yukine.

"If you touch him, I'll kill you."

Fujisaki's head tilted. For a scarce second, he seemed as surprised as his son's regalia was.

An all-knowing look crossed his youthful features, unnerving his shorter opponent. The guise faltered. Behind a mask of false amiability and teenage pretence, she could behold the homicidal intent lurking at his character's core.

"You know, memories are very precious." Although calm, he had a slow, sadistic voice. "God, spirit, human, whatever you're meant to be, memories are what build one's persona. That doesn't change. Ironically, Liberation, the power to retrieve these memories, undoubtedly imprisons one in their past. I think it's time for you to get a glimpse of yours, Bishamonten."

With this, a force akin to an electrical shock went through the ringed monk staff, to her fingertips and into her nervous system. There was no blinding light, nothing overwhelming or breathtaking, neither worth a fright nor an adrenaline rush, just the sharp pang in her heart. Dry and unmerciful, as if her lungs shrank and her bones were suddenly crunched, quick pain shot up her spine. Her neck craned, her eyes squeezed shut. Broken glasses, a hand thrusting toward her, a panicky voice calling out a name to which she desperately wanted to respond, too distorted to be clearly distinguished as male or female- **" _Veennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_**

That name was more relatable than Bishamonten, Vaisravana or any other she'd ever been bestowed. She wanted to turn around to the person that had called her, as if they were a step behind her, and wholeheartedly cling to them with all her might. They needed her to, certainly they did. But, despite her effort, she wasn't able to. Her short legs betrayed her. She fell to the fresh grass on her hands and knees, looking like she was bowing to that despicable sorcerer.

" _Veena…"_

"Bishamon-sama!" Yukine kneeled down next to her, a hand on her shoulder and further worry in his tone. She opened her mouth to assure him that she was fine, which might've been a lie, but, to her astonishment, found her tongue tied. Her eyes opened in a blink, widening to stare quizzically at him. She suddenly felt so puny, she couldn't even speak. "What did you do to her!?"

"You're so bo~ring. If Yaboku was here, we could've at least had some fun. Oh, well. Tell him Daddy said hi."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Fujisaki granted them one last belittling glance before reverting Nora to her human form and casually walking away.

"By the way…" Unstoppable, he didn't care to look back at them. "Don't forget- heaven is on my side."

Tears welled up in Bishamon's eyes. She felt utterly miserable, but couldn't figure out why. It felt as if someone else's emotion fueled her heart into a blaze. Was it shame?

Shedding her skin, crawling out of her childish body, abandoning her mind, it all would've been better than her current state. Not because it was painful- the pain eventually subsided. It was the realization that she, having lost guidance, might've gone astray that hurt most.

Muffling a sob, Yukine cried together with her. "It's my fault we came. I should've seen they were following us… I'm such a coward," he muttered more to himself than to her.

Staying with Kofuku-san and her fellow household members, she became aware of the Hafuri vessel's fear of darkness. For the first few days she'd been there, he always made sure to lock himself in his and Yatogami's chamber, go to sleep right after Daikoku-san forced him to eat dinner, open their window and lay under the moonlight to escape the shadows lurking beneath the surface. He, she thought, with his blond mane and sunset eyes, was too sunny to be kept in the dark. It went against his very nature.

Confronting the sorcerer, as far as she was concerned, gave off the same vibes as being trapped in a coffin. As if he manipulated shadows into straightening to wrap their hands about their owner's necks, dim their colors and force them to carry a weight they had subconsciously overlooked. Meeting him deeply confused the young shinki. That much wasn't a brainer.

She couldn't blame him.

Plus, Yukine's tears, glistening beautifully like the water sheet to their left, were dedicated to the people that had been part of her predecessor's life, the people she knew she'd let down.

"Thank you." Her soft smile caught him off guard. She rubbed her eyelids dry, looking upward to fluffy sakura blossoms. Contemplating life's nature at it simplest. "It's magnificent. No wonder my predecessor liked it here."

"Uh… yeah, I suppose she did."

Following Father's departure, the landscape had regained its springtime sweetness. Nonetheless, still tormented by their brief interaction with the only living witness to what had happened in Bishamonten's mansion not over a week ago, the two sat, listening to birds singing as near shore inhabitants distantly walked by, in a relatively comfortable silence.

"You are no coward, Yukine-san. You're Yatogami's hafuri, which means you sacrificed yourself for him. Not anyone would go to such lengths for their master's sake. I think that makes you quite a brave soul", is what Bishamon said.

Yukine mused on how she'd react if he told her it was she who, in another life, put him in a condition where he had to save Yato's ass. Dragging her to Suzuha's resting place, he'd intended to reveal the history everyone else, Yato included, agreed would merely make matters worse. He wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. In case he did, would she be as sad as he was? She wouldn't simply listen like it wasn't her problem altogether, would she?

Fujisaki had done something to mess her up using Nora's abilities without brushes or masked ayakashi. It bothered him that his stupid master didn't explain what his Father was really capable of. 'How powerful is that guy exactly?'

By the time Yato and Hiyori came searching for them, both had undusted their clothes and were heading home before nightfall's monsters were up to roam Tokyo's alleys.

"Yukine-kun! Bishamon-sama! Kofuku said you ran away. We were all so worried!"

Ignoring Yato's questioning look, the boy apologized to his friend, claiming he was showing the child-kami around a bit. Hiyori wasn't convinced but didn't push much on it. The three of them, with Kofuku and Daikoku, would have to discuss things through later on.

At their arrival, there were fancy cars parked outside Lady Poverty's place and formally-dressed men safeguarding the entrance that only let them in upon Kofuku savagely knocking them out in order to jump on her dear Bisha and Yukine-kun.

"We have guests," Daikoku announced, flickering his cigarette at the 'adult' out of the bunch. "They don't know what happened so keep your mouth shut. If asked, say you four were out sightseeing or something."

"Wait, what? What guests?"

The answer, that should've been evident, manifested itself almost immediately.

"Baby Ebi!"

"Chijo-chan!"

The boy ran straight past him, leaving Yato, arms open wide and a fast-fading grin gracing his face, to freeze in his track as he embraced Bishamon instead of lunging for their bro-hug as per usual. Victorious, she actually gave him a he-likes-me-better-than-you look. Biting his lower lip, Yato clenched his fists, repeating over and over to himself that he'd decided to try to get along with the crazy chick's chibi. Starting new rivalries wasn't a suitable plan to successfully do so. Recreating the past would be equally troublesome.

"I see you two are still BFFs, huh?" Okuninushi warmly welcomed them, pinching the silver-haired girl's cheeks against her protests. "Also, Ebisu, we've been through this a thousand times, don't call Bishamon Chijo, k?"

"Why not? I don't mind."

"Yato-san said it was her name…"

Yato, regaining his composure after Baby Ebi finally acknowledged him, walked in to meet the party waiting their return. Kofuku's living room was full, a joyful ambiance settling in. Tenjin too was present. Ebisu, cocooned as he was, had brought along several shinki to his service, most notably Iwami.

Bishamonten had asked the exiled shinki to move to Okuninushi's estate out of caution before the events that lead to her reincarnation took place, which likely saved his life. Bowing profusely, the old man smiled down at her. "It's a pleasure to see you're doing well, Bishamon-sama."

She gratefully returned the smile with a beam of her own. "Thank you, Iwami-san."

The night aged. People were chatting, drinking, exchanging advises and comparing their abilities in spontaneous show off contests. Their pink-haired hostess laughter ringing as she won bet after bet.

Sitting on the balcony to not meddle with grownups' affairs, Ebisu and Bishamon had lots to catch up on.

" Kofuku-san and Yato-san are so irresponsible with their finances, it's terrifying", he whispered, looking sincerely distressed. Bad investments truly were his worst nightmare.

Content with a friendship she hoped would last an eternity, Bisha laughed. Ebisu had the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. He failed to see what was funny, though.

Yato, who stood nearest to them, couldn't refrain from smirking at their antics. He sneaked to a seat beside the little businessman, winking and promptly nudging his ribs. "Ne, Baby Ebi, do you have a crush on Brat-sama here?"

The shy red on Ebisu's face became a vibrant crimson. For once, he tripped on his words rather than his shoelaces. "Wha_ Yato-san what are you talking about? I-I'm supposed to be married."

"Oh. My. God! You're so cute!"

"Yato-san you're drunk. Let me down, please."

Bishamon wistfully stared at them.

They were having fun.

Kofuku had Daikoku. Yato had Yukine. Ebisu-kun had Iwami, Kunimi and many other shinki. Okuninushi and Tenjin were well accompanied too.

She was alone.

'Because my predecessor's shinki are…'

That's why heaven was against her.

Yatogami lied. She really did something wrong, something terrible.

Still, that voice, louder than the ruckus, kept echoing in her mind.

" _Veena…"_

It was her call home.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 ***I have a few theories about Nora's past. The ones I like the best so far are either: 1- she had a mental illness in her lifetime. Or 2- She killed herself and Father made sure she wasn't eaten by Ayakashi. (The 'suicide forest' thing is a reference to the second.)**

 ****In this fic, Fujisaki can not only use Mizuchi against Shinki, but also to trigger some memories of kami's previous incarnations.** **Yup, canon-divergent alright.**

 **R &R?**


End file.
